


Don't Leave Me Alone

by 3lys3



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, could be in original time period but idk why i put small details putting it in a modern setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25864870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3lys3/pseuds/3lys3
Summary: Javert got hurt in the line of duty. Valjean is there when he wakes up at the hospital and he is not happy.
Relationships: Javert/Jean Valjean
Kudos: 30





	Don't Leave Me Alone

**Author's Note:**

> My third fanfic! I tried to take care of the pov switching this time, and also of "show, don't tell"..

Javert didn’t realize when his mind drifted from sleep to reality. He was laying on something soft but not comfortable. He could barely move as if all his body was made of lead. He slowly opened his eyes, and he blinked a few times for his sight to become clear. The room was small, and everything around him was white, with a regular beeping sound ringing in his ear.

 _Bloody hospital_.

His mind was blank; he did not know why he was in the hospital, again. He had stopped counting the number of times he ended up in a hospital bed past his thirties.

The inspector tried to straighten up, but a searing pain in his chest stopped him and triggered his memories to flood back. Clutching the hospital gown, he felt heavy bandages encompassing his ribcage.

Another arrest that had ended badly. His team had set up a trap for the thieves, but an unexpected passerby alerted them and a chase had begun. One of the thieves, who seemed to be a beginner in criminal activities, got nervous and desperate and shot him. Unfortunately, he aimed too well and Javert was shot in the chest, near the heart.

This time, he could have died; Javert knew it… He wanted to throw up. But his stomach was empty and he was so thirsty he only retched, the movement of his chest exacerbating his pain.

Javert laid back in the bed and closed his eyes again, listening to his breath, to try to calm himself and to dismiss the pain. Then he heard a low moaning noise at his right. He took a glance and saw Jean Valjean sitting in a chair against the wall, under a window.

The white-haired man was asleep but he did not look peaceful. His wrinkles were even more marked than before with dark bags under his eyes. His face was almost as white as his disheveled hair. For once, he looked like his age, or even older. He had his head dropped on his chest, his legs under Javert’s bed.

As if the older man knew he was being watched – thanks to his former fugitive condition that he had provoked decades ago, Javert thought bitterly - he stirred from his sleep and woke up quickly. He blinked and when he saw the scrutinizing gaze of his partner, his eyes were first filled with fear, as if Javert was going to arrest him and that sight alone hurt the Inspector more than his physical wound. However, concern and relief for him promptly replaced the distrust in Valjean’s face.

“I am well, Valjean.” Javert croaked before Valjean even had the chance to speak. But immediately Javert began coughing and grimacing. The pain in his chest was burning and hitting him as if with a hammer each time he coughed.

Valjean immediately got up and poured a glass of water for him from the pitcher on the nightstand, all the while not saying a single word. He approached Javert and was going to put his arm behind his shoulders to help him sit up and drink, but the Inspector stopped him before he could by snatching the glass of water from Valjean’s hand between two coughs. Javert avoided looking at his face while drinking with a trembling hand, but he felt Valjean’s dejected and hopeless stare burning through the top of his head. Still, the older man waited for Javert to finish drinking before taking the glass and sitting back.

“You are not well. Look at you. You’re so pale and it looks like you’ll faint anytime!” Valjean said, his voice increasing in volume with each sentence. “You nearly died!”

The last word ringed in the room and in both men’s ears for a few seconds. Valjean exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. Javert was surprised at Valjean’s outburst. Nowadays the old man rarely got angry.

“You don’t know how I feel every time I see you like this. How many times do I have to watch you getting hurt? It’s the third time in two years! I have -”

“What do you want me to do, Valjean? It comes with my job, my duty!” Javert cut him.

“Well, you can resign!” 

Once again, there was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, except for the rhythmic beeping saying that Javert’s heart was still working. Valjean stood back up and began pacing agitatedly, not daring to look at him.

Javert was shocked. It was Valjean who had saved him the night he wanted to kill himself. It was the ex-prisoner who took care of him, who convinced him to take his job back at the police station. Now, the same man was demanding the contrary; to dismiss his life, purpose and honor he had so hardly earned back as if it were a mere passing phase.

He knew he would do anything for this saintly man, were it necessary, even if he wouldn’t admit it. However, he was also stubborn – they both were – and he would argue until the end.

“Do you realize what you’re asking of me?” Javert clenched his fists, his pain now forgotten.

Valjean stopped in his track, turned to the bed and finally looked Javert in the eyes. Fear was back in his eyes, but the inspector doubted it was for the same reason as before. Valjean swallowed and a beat passed in silence.

“Yes, I know. You make a great Inspector, Javert. But you don’t need to exhaust yourself in your work. You’re not young anymore.”

“Speak for yourself, Valjean!” spat Javert defensively.

“Listen, I almost lost Cosette, and thanks to you, I can still have her in my life. But I don’t want to lose you too!” Valjean’s voice cracked at the end. He stepped closer to the bed. His hands shot up as if they were going to reach Javert’s closest hand, but they retreated to the safety of the bed rails that they were now clutching with white knuckles.

Javert ought not be surprised by this declaration of love, even if the words “I love you” had never been uttered between the two of them. Valjean was more prone, unlike him, to express his feelings for him, albeit not openly. But each time Valjean so much as hinted at his affection for the inspector, Javert could not help but feel surprise, hope and yet some disbelief for the man.

“I don’t need your worry and your pity, Valjean. I’ll be a cop until the end of my miserable life.” Javert lowered his eyes and pursed his lips.

“So you still think that, Javert?” The older man hunched his shoulders and bowed his head, his hands still on the bed rails. “You want to kill yourself through your job. God gave you a second chance. Please do not waste it.”

Javert closed his eyes and sighed. The honest side of him couldn’t refute it **.** His partner was right. At his most desperate moment, God had sent him a savior, even if it was in the strangest of forms.

Valjean would always be his death and his life.

“But what would my purpose be here if I can’t serve justice?” Javert opened his eyes again, but fixed a point above Valjean’s shoulders.

“Enjoy the time you have. With me if you still want to.” Valjean suggested with a small self-deprecating chuckle. “You deserve some rest after a lifetime of duty.”

_Like Valjean deserved rest and peace after a lifetime of manhunting._

Once again Javert’s heart constricted at the thought of his guilty role in Valjean’s persecution and torment, which was constantly floating in his mind **.** What use could he be as a cop if he was not even a good one? All his past mistakes were a proof of that. Even if he had changed since the riots of 2016, he had never felt less confident in his capacities as a cop. But it was still the only constant in his life. He was not going to give it up.

“No, I cannot, Valjean. I would go even madder.”

“Well, I would have thought you would go crazy by spending the rest of your life in a hospital bed”, retorted Valjean bitterly, his head snapping back up.

Javert suspected that Valjean was hiding his fear and vulnerability with anger. It pained him to see the other man suffer, by his hand once again. A part of him still felt disgusted at himself for being selfish, when all this saint wanted was his safety. Yet for once, Javert wanted to have something for himself, even if Valjean disagreed with it. Javert knew he was too stubborn for his own good, but he would never admit that was what led him to his current injured state.

“This will go nowhere, Valjean! You cannot control my life. You’re not Monsieur le Maire anymore.”

“Is this what you think?” repeated the older man. “That I want to control your life?”

“How many times have I asked you to mind your own business? Even if I was wrong about all my decisions in the end, you have always interfered in my life! When I wanted to resign in Montreuil-sur-Mer, you refused. And _now_ , you want me to quit?”

Valjean did not answer, his wide eyes fixing Javert with a mouth slightly agape.

“I’m not age worn yet. I’m meant for serving the law. You said it yourself to convince me to go back to the police. What else could I do? I’m not like you, I can’t spend all day gardening or reading books. You know, I’ve always thought I would die on the job, and it would be my honor, my only way to die properly. Suicide was the only other way to maintain my honor and integrity. I had no other solution. And you robbed me of that.”

There was another heavy silence for some minutes. After lashing out, Javert felt worse and better at the same time. He felt even guiltier for jumping down his partner’s throat like that and was exhausted by it. But he was also almost relieved to have finally let his bottled up emotions spill out. He had never confessed all this to Valjean, even during his worst moments.

The inspector let out a shaky breath. If he hadn’t been so suddenly angry and frustrated, he knew he was tired enough he could have gone back to sleep in a minute.

***

Valjean observed the injured Inspector who was avoiding his gaze with his usual bullheadedness and scowl on his face. He was also trying to hide his pain, but it was showing in the tensed creasing of his wrinkles. Whether it was from the hole in his chest or because of what he had just admitted, Valjean did not know.

Javert’s arguments were valid. _He_ had convinced the younger man to keep his job as Inspector when he was at his lowest. And he had refused the letter of resignation back when he was a mayor.

Was it just selfish of him to want Javert to be away from his job, even if it was to protect him? His work in the police had always been his identity, his life and his savior. He knew that before his relationship with him, Javert uphold the law not only because of his beliefs, but also because it had saved him from perdition, from a criminal path his background could have easily led him to.

However, Javert’s last sentences hit him hard. It petrified him to think that Javert still wished that he had managed to drown in the Seine.

Since that fateful night, Valjean had always been there for Javert. He had the vague realization that he had replaced the law in Javert’s mind, he was his new constant. The law that had been Javert’s guide had also been his traitorous, cold and unforgiving judge when he had attempted to kill himself.

Valjean was his new moral compass, teacher and companion. He tried to help Javert as best as he could. But even then, Valjean had to admit he was partially at fault. Because of him, Javert had felt so lost and afraid that he had thought of no other solution than suicide after the riots. But thanks to him, the former so harsh Inspector had found a new brighter path alongside himself.

He had hoped that he was enough for Javert. He had hoped that Javert was happy with him.

“Do you… do you still wish that you had managed to jump in the river? Because I will never apologize for not letting you. But if you wish you had. If -” Valjean took a deep breath. “Does it mean you’re not happy with me?” finished Valjean with a small voice, avoiding Javert’s gaze.

“Please, no! No. I’m happy with you, Valjean!” Javert said earnestly with his eyes open wide in fear. “Valjean… Valjean! Look at me. I’m sorry I said that. It’s been a lifetime ago you’re not a thief anymore. And I’m glad and honored just to be in the same room as you. It’s just… I… I… ”

Javert paused for a second. He was frowning, trying to find the correct words for what he wanted to say.

“I’ll forever have a debt to you. And I don’t like owing anyone. Before that night, I had always lived by myself, I survived on my own and I was content to stay that way. I thought as a cop, it was better not to get close to anyone, even my teammates. It would cloud my judgment, my priorities and I believed my only role in society was to protect it, from the outside. So I couldn’t have any friends, any lover, anyone. But then, you came and saved me.”

Javert coughed a bit more. He was usually not very talkative, but after spending days in a coma trying to fight for his life, Valjean supposed that shouting and talking for more than a few sentences was draining him of his energy.

He was going to fill another glass for the man when Javert stopped him with a wave of his hand. He was looking stricken and slightly restless, as if he needed to say what he wanted without interruption, or he would never be able to say it again.

“You saved me, but you also teared apart my convictions, my reason to live. I was lost. I was angry with you, and with myself. _I am_ happy to be alive now. But I don’t want to feel lost again. I’m afraid of not knowing, of not being sure if what I’m doing is right or wrong. Now… Now I’m less afraid of dying myself than of making a mistake that can cost the life of someone else, especially yours. Sometimes, I still wish selfishly that I had died that day, then I wouldn’t have to think about all that. But all of this is worth the uncertainty. Thanks to you, Valjean. You are worth it. You are more than worth it, so much that I don’t deserve you.”

Now that it seemed that Javert had nothing else to say, he looked more tired than ever, with only more coughs rattling his body. Valjean busied himself with finally filling the other cup for Javert and giving it to him while thinking about his confession. Was _he_ worth it? How could he be worth Javert’s pain and torment? Especially when he was the cause of it?

Javert took the glass of water with both hands, but he then kept one hand firmly clasped around Valjean’s while he drank heartily with his left one. Valjean could feel Javert’s rough thumb stroking his knuckles and palm, replacing the cold of the plastic water cup. Javert was not usually one for casual physical contact, but he felt that Javert was trying to convey something left unsaid in this simple caress.

Yet, Valjean still felt guilty. Here he was being comforted when it was Javert laying injured in a hospital bed. Valjean searched Javert’s face. A light sweat was covering Javert’s forehead, his usually well-tended sideburns now untidy on his scruffy face. His hair was falling sadly on his shoulders. Javert on the other side could not seem to be able to break his staring at him, as if he wanted earnestly to convince him of his worth.

Valjean suddenly realized how close he was to Javert, one hand surrounded by warmth, the other braced on the bed next to Javert’s cushion while the two men stared at each other. The two faces were now so close their breath were mingling together.

He was reminded of the many times Javert and him were in a similar position, in a bed, him towering over Javert when they were kissing and touching each other’s body hungrily. During these times, Valjean would see Javert’s face glowing with excitation and anticipation for the pleasure that would come next, and Valjean would be eager to provide it. He was glad to be the one giving Javert what he wanted.

But he also remembered the other times when the two of them would just lie in bed reading. Or rather, Valjean would read out loud some novel or poem and occasionally glance at Javert who was only half listening, but still looking at him with a face full of adoration. And then his mind wandered to the sunny days when he was working the garden and Javert brought him fresh cookies and juice, with a fond look and expressing some concern about the ache in his back after sitting for hours in the dirt.

Javert could not feign this happiness.

And yet, he was still getting shot at, he was still throwing his life away carelessly, this happy life that they had built together.

Valjean straightened his back, removing his hand from the bed and putting more distance between himself and Javert. He willed the blush on his cheeks that had appeared with his first thoughts on other bed-related memories to fade. But he left his hand in the warmth of Javert’s one and squeezed it.

“If I’m really worth it, if you like your new life enough, why are you still so reckless in your job?”

“I’m not reckless. My job is just dangerous. And it won’t be a loss to society if I happen to die anyway…”

“Don’t say that!” said Valjean sharply. “I can’t bear to lose you.”

“And I you. But don’t be hypocritical. I remember you almost dying on me when Cosette got married and you thought there was nothing more for you in life. If I die, I don’t want you to waste into nothing.”

Valjean felt slightly ashamed. But only slightly. His situation had been different. Cosette didn’t need him anymore and he and his shameful past would only have been a burden to her. The Parisian society would have lost nothing if a forgotten old man were to die of a broken heart.

But Valjean now realized that both men cared deeply for the other man. More so than they cared for themselves.

And the two men also needed each other. Javert was his first sip of water when lost in a dry desert, disbelieving how he could have taken water for granted. He had never felt the need to see, touch and feel Javert before taking care of him when he had attempted to kill himself. But now, he could not see himself living without him. And the inspector had admitted himself that he was his anchor and his guide in this new life. They were not only lovers, but also alternatively teacher, student, confidant and protector to each other.

As it came to that, Valjean was now glad to put his life in the hand of the inspector, and he would treasure the precious gift of Javert’s soul and body in return.

“Well in that case, let’s just make an agreement. You try not to die in the line of duty, and I won’t wither away if I only have Cosette anymore. I know I have no right to control your life, you can make your own decisions. I will not ask you to retire.”

Valjean put his right palm on Javert’s hand, clasping it firmly in his grip. His voice dropped into a lower and slower tone.

“But I’m begging you, Javert, please… please, be more careful. If not for yourself, then for me.”

Javert quickly blinked at his hand that was now between Valjean’s, then raised his eyes back to Valjean’s face. He scowled at himself, but then he quickly looked resigned but with a touch of fondness and surprise in his eyes.

“Very well, Valjean. I can accept that. I care about you. I don’t want you to suffer, especially because of me or my stupidity.”

Valjean felt relief surging through him. His smile was reaching his eyes for the first time since days, since Javert got shot. Javert on the other side kept a serious face, but the tension in his lines slowly ebbed away while he laid himself back into the cushion.

Valjean trusted Javert to keep his word. And to prevent the temptation, he just had to make Javert so happy and content that he would never want to get injured again.

They maybe only had realized late in life how much and what they could bring and share to each other. More pain would certainly be inevitable. Yet Valjean had never been more sure before that they still had plenty of time to create happy memories together.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not completely happy with the resolution, I feel like both Javert and Valjean would continue arguing (in an earlier draft they were almost breaking up ?), but I wanted a happy(ier) ending.
> 
> It's a modern AU, but let’s just imagine that now mayors can still lay off policemen in France, for the one sentence where I refer to when Valjean refused Javert's resignation in Montreuil-sur-Mer...
> 
> I began writing this in 2016 or 2017, that's why I refer to the riots of 2016. As Les Mis is a political work and is still relevant as showing the issues in society, I think it's ok to do that, but some people say it's not a respectful thing to do to the people who suffer in these real events... I can change that if it's an issue with anybody.


End file.
